


Hold me like you held on to life

by PunkyNemo (TheVampireCat)



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Halloween, Outdoor Sex, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 11:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8444137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVampireCat/pseuds/PunkyNemo
Summary: Frank didn't dress up for Halloween but that's okay. He's wearing a costume anyway.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, don't ask. I don't know what this is. It's based on the aesthetic edit below.

 

 

“I know who you’re supposed to be,” she says eventually. 

It’s about damn time. She’s been on at him about this pretty much all night, even though he’s told her over and over again that he just decided _not_ to dress up. He is, for all intents and purposes, a grown-ass man.

“Yeah?” he holds her close, lets her lean against him, legs tangled through his. She smells of grass and autumn leaves, hair dye and underneath that some heady perfume he can’t identify. She smells of them.

“You’re not The Punisher, it wouldn’t count as dressing up if you were.”

“No,” he says. “It wouldn’t.”

She runs a finger along his jaw, kisses him softly, and when he shivers, so does she. It’s not the cold, but he pulls her ridiculous vampire cape tighter around them anyway. If nothing else it saves them from the dirt on the forest floor and the prickly grass. The rough bark of the tree at his back.

When he thinks about it logically he has to admit that coming out on Halloween, with the sole objective of making love under the stars, might not have been the best idea in the world. But then he looks down at her pale skin and the bruises he’s sucked into it and realises it really was. That neither of them have had a better idea in months.

He turns his head, kisses her lips, ruby lipstick smudged across her flesh. It looks like blood.

He doesn’t let himself think too much about that.

“You didn’t dress up, but you still wore a costume.”

“How so?” He tugs his fingers through her hair, lets them dance along her shoulders. She’s so soft and her skin gleams like ivory in the moonlight.

“You were Frank Castle tonight,” she whispers.

Yeah, he was.

She moves in, kisses his throat, the dent of his breastbone. She’s smooth and warm and even though it’s really fucking stupid that they’re out here like this in the middle of the night, he wishes he could stay here with her forever. And it’s not the first time he’s felt this way since they started this strange thing they now have. This thing that feels a lot like falling in love.

“You okay?” he asks

“Yes,” she runs her hands through his hair, tilts his face towards her and presses her lips to his forehead. “I just wonder when I’ll see him again.”

He gathers her closer, buries his head in her neck. He not sure how she doesn’t know it already, how she’s missed it, but she always gets Frank Castle. She always gets the only part of him that’s still alive.

He presses his lips to her cool skin. “I don’t know.”


End file.
